Legacy
by fen-san
Summary: Norrington needs to come to terms with his own mortality and is desperately lonely, with no-one he could call a peer. Fortunately Jack's bored.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: The Pirates of the Caribbean franchise does not belong to me and I am just borrowing the characters to tell a story I wrote. I am making no profit from this venture, nor mean disrespect to the real owners of these characters.

Note: This story is written to fit in after the first film, and ignores all continuity post the first movie (mostly because I saw the second movie and refused to pay to watch the others at the cinema after the cheeky buggers ended it on a ruddy cliff-hanger! I paid to see a whole film, not to be left hanging.

Legacy

The sun glistened off dappled wavelets, a fair wind blew them along and he had the wooden planks of a proper deck solid beneath his feet. It was a little glimpse of Heaven for the redoubtable Commodore James Norrington and Lieutenant Gillette was shocked to see the man close his eyes, inhale deeply of the sea air and smile. It was a rare sight to behold upon the face of his stern commanding officer and one he'd despaired of ever seeing again after the unfortunate business with Miss Swann. He should have known that being at sea would ease the Commodore's heartache.

The escort mission was going well ; the weather was clement, the merchantship was making good time, the horizon was miraculously pirate-free and the Commodore… Gillette didn't finish his thought as he turned to ask the Commodore about their bearing and instead had to dart forward to catch the man as he swooned dramatically. Groves and an Able Seaman carried the fainted officer below as a shaken Gillette took the helm.

The ship's surgeon was an able old salt called Hammond and he directed the two men, allowing them to deposit their burden on the bunk before sending them hurrying back above deck. He had no use for lollygaggers in his domain.

The smelling salts did the trick of bringing the Commodore back out of his faint, although the man swayed alarmingly as he took to his feet and Hamish had a bad feeling that this was more than just the heat getting to him. He pushed the Commodore firmly back to sit on the bunk and felt the horrible rasp of his laboured breathing rattling under the palm he'd lain on the man's chest. Hamish stopped just short of actual insubordination as he nagged his superior into stripping down to his smallclothes and performed a battery of tests to confirm his worst fear. As Commodore Norrington redressed himself Hammond poured them both a measure of brandy. 'Drink this, Sir. It'll put some colour back in yer cheeks.'

'It's the white plague, I assume?' He asked in the long-cultivated drawl of an officer's languid tones. They could have been discussing shipboard supplies of boot-blacking for all the emotion in the man's voice.

'Aye, it's consumption Sir.' Hamish paused and looked at the pale, thin face of the Commodore, realising with a start that now he was actually paying attention the man was visibly emaciated, even with a heavy uniform to disguise his loss of condition. 'Yer condition doesn't look too tidy, Sir. I cannae say how badly off ye really are, but I doubt ye'll live to see an Admiral's braid decorating yer sleeve.'

The Commodore didn't reply, merely continuing to drink his brandy in small sips. The sore throat and bloody cough had made him guess at what he'd caught, the later loss of appetite and subsequent wasting of the flesh from his bones had knocked the half-hearted denial out of his head. Whilst it was shocking to hear his surgeon's coarse Scottish tones laying out his prospects to bluntly he'd sensed his time shortening over the past year or so anyway. It had been the impetus to gain his promotion so quickly and to propose to the dear Miss Swann on the very same day, regardless of the vulgarity. 'I understand. I'd thank you not to mention this to anyone but myself, though.'

At the feverish gleam in his patient's eyes Hamish understood, the lad had always lived to serve and protect his country and fellow citizens and he would not let the fever change that. Norrington had been the one, several year back, who'd tactfully had certain of Hamish's documents tidied away to prevent him from being discharged on grounds of age. Hamish had never asked about the matter and had been shocked at the usually inflexible and stiff-necked man's tactful reinterpretation of the guidelines. He'd assumed it was because the young officer had seen that Hamish still had years of faithful service left within him and that the man was eager to continue his service. Under the circumstances Hamish had to acknowledge a kindred spirit. 'Fine Sir, but ye will follow my advice and take care o' yerself please?' His accent thickened in concern as he spoke.

Norrington stared at the old surgeon from where he stood by the door. Something softened in his determined military mien and he gave a curt nod.

The rest of their journey passed without any unusual events and on his return to Port Royal James made his way to the Governor's residence. As it turned out, Governor Swann was otherwise occupied, meeting with several of the local landowners, so the duty of entertaining the Commodore fell to the man's daughter, something Elizabeth was more than happy to do.

James frowned bemusedly at the embroidery in Elizabeth's lap, was she intent on putting together what his housekeeper, Mrs Dower, termed a 'hope chest'? Elizabeth threw up her hands in frustration at the needlework, then noticed her old friend's expression. 'If you think my sewing is poor then I should like to see you make a better job of it!' She huffed, her demeanour that of a petulant child sulking at a favoured older brother.

James shrugged and easily caught the Swiss frame his one-time fiancée threw at him in a fit of pique. He flipped the frame over and over, swiftly analysing the nature of the stitches and noticing that Elizabeth had marked the letters E and W intertwining as the motif. For one hopeless moment James wished it were his own initial there in place of Turner's, but dismissed the thought as unworthy. No honourable man could hold the woman he loved to himself when it was clear she loved and was loved by another. The satin stitch motif was simple enough and years of mending wounds and sails had left him with neat, even stitching. With a small flourish he removed the completed handkerchief from the frame and presented it to Miss Swann with a playful bow. She accepted it was a fond smile.

They chatted amiably over tea for a little longer before Elizabeth began to twist the newly-completed hankie in her fine-boned hands. Jams recognised the nervous gesture and sighed inwardly, outwardly stifling a painful cough. 'What is troubling you, Miss Swann?'

Elizabeth's normal frown at his formal mode of address flickered briefly across her face. 'Will and I intend to be wed in two months' time. We would both be honoured if you would attend to ceremony and festivities,'

James choked and snatched up his own handkerchief from his pocket to stifle his hacking cough and pained attempts to regain his breath. Elizabeth hurried over, patting his back and flittering around him. James balled the stained cloth while the pretty young gentlewoman turned to pour him a glass of water.

'I understand its irregular.' Elizabeth continued, once her friend had regained his breath and a few sips of water had helped him regain his composure. 'But we both owe you so much - you've been my companion ever since we came here, even though I was a boisterous child; you gained Will an apprenticeship with the finest craftsman in the Carribes and you….' She trailed off, seeing how pale James had become and realising that the last reason might not be one an entirely tactful lady might mention under the circumstances.

'I stepped aside and have enabled this wedding, I know, 'Lizabeth.' He said exhaustedly, lapsing into using an old, improper nickname from when she'd been but a child.

'It would be a great slight to fail to acknowledge such a noble deed, though it cost you dear.' Elizabeth placed a gentle hand on his arm, remembering the rumours that had flown about the town after James had returned empty-handed, having lost both his fiancée and a notorious pirate. Only the excellence of his overall reputation had kept him from a full court-martial, Elizabeth had heard tell from her father, 'Releasing me from our engagement was a true act of affection and sacrifice. Thank-you.'

James cleared his throat and stood hastily. 'I should be honoured to attend your nuptials. Please send the details of the event over to my residence. I'm afraid I have neglected my post long enough, so by your leave I shall return to my duties.' Elizabeth nodded understandingly, recognising his pain and he bowed politely and left. Odd that it had taken his breaking their engagement and making a professional ass of himself for her to see through his stiff manners and regain her old affection for James the man.

Lieutenant Gillette looked up at the brisk steps of his commander as he arrived and hurried into his office. The Commodore turned, his face tight with some suppressed emotion. 'Find me trace of a pirate to capture, Lieutenant!'

Gillette could only nod, dumbstruck and get on with finding a pirate ship to tackle.


	2. Chapter 2

They were preparing to put to sea after reported sightings of Captain Brancusi's vessel when the runner arrived. James received the lad's note and read it, suppressing a groan at its contents. The Governor had spoken to his daughter about the wedding and she'd made a request of him. The man was completely under her pretty thumb, as was evidenced by the fact that he was begging James to sign a week-long clemency agreement with Sparrow for the wedding. The thought of a truce with the pirate galled, but James had to acknowledge that Sparrow had a sort of drunken honour and underneath all the hyperbolic stories he'd a reputation for bloodless raids. James had eviller fish to fry than that ridiculous popinjay, and knowing that Elizabeth would nag him into it anyway he hastily signed the document and ordered the lad to return to the Governor. James turned back to the ocean, the matter forgotten in the face of the task of wiping another piece of murdering, raping scum from the face of the waves.

Weatherby Swann stared at the mounds of wedding-related letters in front of him and dearly wished his friend was present with suitably dry commentary to help sort through it all. Norrington had set to sea the day after Elizabeth had informed him of her and young William's impending nuptials, returning to port twice since - once to bring a pirate crew to justice and once more to take on supplies. It had been a transparent action, but one Weatherby could hardly blame the lad for. He just hoped Norrington would send a letter soon - there were carrier pigeons on the ship after all.

The Dauntless' gun ports were open, black cannon barrels protruding from them and glistening in the setting sunlight. The whole ship quivered with tension, marines lining the decks and the Commodore and Gillette stood on deck as the ship turned, waiting and hoping they could turn faster to bring their cannon to bear than the pirate ship they were pursuing. Gillette was still waiting for the right moment, waiting for the ship to come square on to the pirate vessel when Commodore Norrington roared the order to open fire as the two ships were still slightly angled away from one another. Not all of the shots hit home, but the pirate ship was badly damaged even before she could unleash a single shot.

Seamen swarmed to obey their senior officer, trimming the sails and bringing her around far faster than the pirates could have possibly expected, the sideways motion slamming the two vessels together with a terrible crash. The marines swarmed onto the pirate ship's deck yelling fiercely, charging out of a cloud of gun smoke, led by the Commodore who seemed to ride the winds of death itself.

The pirates fought back with desperate fervour and even with one half of the battle wearing bright uniforms in the smoke and roar of battle telling friend from foe was no easy task. Unnoticed by the combatants the mercantile vessel the pirate ship had been menacing slipped away to gentler waters.

James fought like a man possessed, his heavy naval-issue sabre flashing and slashing at every foe he spied, using his greater reach and fury to terrifying advantage. A foul, bearded pirate screamed oaths at him as they shoved and stabbed and parried desperately fighting with one another, drawing the fight out as they rapidly discovered the other's impressive skill. With a final yelled obscenity from the other man James' blade found its target, swinging hard and removing his head in one sweep from the corpulent, unwashed body.

''Ee's killt the Captain!' The heartbroken wail of a young lad with bright fiery hair the same shade as the slain pirate's pierced through the battle. The shrill cry, like that of a wounded animal shouldn't have been heard over the tumult, but all of a sudden the marines took the upper hand and the fight evaporated from the pirates.

James watched from the fo'c'sle of the captured ship as the surviving pirate crew were manacled and escorted to the Dauntless' brig. His bearing was proudly upright even as he struggled to take gentle, shallow breaths and not fall to his knees coughing and choking with smoke and exhaustion. His chest burnt spitefully and he could barely stay standing for the weariness dogging his limbs. Nonetheless satisfaction warmed his belly at the prospect of one less pirate crew roaming the seas. Hopefully others would take heed.

Jack drained the last of his rum and fell back onto his bed on the Pearl. He wondered what had occurred to spur the Navy onto two fierce battles with pirates in as many weeks. Certainly sea battles weren't uncommon and the Navy patrolled regularly, but all of a sudden the Navy were appearing in unusual locations and fighting with rare ferocity. The Scourge was after earning his title all over again, it seemed.

Jack grinned broadly, then laughed as he wondered if this was Norrington's sulk about not being allowed to hang Jack at the wedding. The morbid Navy-boy would probably have thought it a fitting wedding-present and blathered on about security and service and the greater populace too in that irritatingly self-righteous way of his.

Jack grinned. He was looking forward to this.


	3. Chapter 3

James stood still, submitting to his housekeeper's measuring cord. He'd barely been back home half a day before Mrs Dower had noticed that he'd lost weight, which meant she'd have to alter his dress uniform for the wedding. Normally the work would fall to the port tailors, but everyone in Port Royal was buying new outfits for the social event of the year (even if society thought Mr Turner an oik that was no excuse to wear an unfashionable gown to the festivities).

'You're slight as a pole sir! You've lost at least a stone* of late, your dress uniform will hang off you like a sack if I can't alter it in time!' Mrs Dower had always been a little more familiar with him than was strictly appropriate for a servant, although she did still show him the proper respect. Being a naval widow she understood the Commodore's rank and responsibilities better than most civilians.

James made a non-committal noise at that, the casual observation sending a stab of apprehension through him. Did he have long to live? The prospect of fading away through illness terrified him as a man of action who awoke each morning in the knowledge that a battle might end him that day. To his horror, that cold unrelenting panic had even caused a bout of unmanly weeping in the privacy of his cabin on one mortifying occasion after a particularly agonising episode.

It was then that his manservant arrived with the news that Mr Turner awaited him in the drawing-room. James sighed internally, affixed his wig back atop his head and headed downstairs. Turner was stood examining the watercolours on the drawing-room walls when Norrington came to stand in the doorway. He glanced at the portrait of his naval captain great-uncle and casually touched the globe as he passed the occasional table it stood on. His footsteps alerted Turner to his presence as Norrington joined Turner in admiring the two excellent watercolours he'd commissioned of the Dauntless and Interceptor.

Will turned to see the Commodore standing beside him. Pale, composed and immaculately turned out even after weeks at sea; Will could see why the other man would have been a perfect social match for Lizzy. Sometimes that worried him, but he'd seen the Commodore's face when he'd released Elizabeth from their engagement. He might be prim, proper and rather stuck up, but he was also deeply honourable and loved Lizzy. He decided to ask the question that had been burning in his mind since the Commodore had returned empty-handed from his failed mission to recapture Sparrow. 'Did the Sparrow debacle affect your career?'

James was surprised and bypassed the usual social niceties. He did not think that was a matter that he needed to discuss with Turner and stalked over to the window, tucking his hands behind his back. 'I do not think such matters are relevant, Mr Turner.'

William cocked his head, noticing the slightly pink flush to the naval officer's cheeks. 'I guessed truly, I assume then.' The look levelled at him in reply was cold and flat. 'Will you make Admiral then?'

Internally Norrington laughed bitterly; not according to Hammond's gloomy estimate of his chances. Stiffly he said, 'Doubtless my chances of doing so within the next five years have been harmed.' He looked at Turner, meeting the younger man's appealing, honest gaze and was overcome with some ridiculous, maudlin rush of honesty. It was ridiculous to resent the boy for Eliz… Miss Swann's choice. 'Possibly not, although there are few officers of my skill to be granted the rank in my place.'

Will was utterly astounded by the other man's rare openness. While the Commodore was a scrupulously honest man, Will had expected to be harshly rebuffed. Still, while Will found Norrington stiff and tedious Lizzy was very fond of her old friend and Will had come in the hopes of making a truce with him before her headstrong fiancée forced them into one.

'You'll have guessed why I'm here….' Will stroked his beard nervously at that.

'Given my fortune of late it's either Miss Swann or Sparrow, both of whom seem sent to vex and try me.' The Commodore answered in tones thick with sardonic irritation.

Will smiled weakly, 'Yes, it's Elizabeth. She's started talking to me about you a lot.' At Norrington's raised eyebrow he shrugged. 'I rather think she wants us to be friends and I'd rather not wait for her to begin making her wishes explicit.'

James smiled wanly at that. Yes, he remembered the way 'Lizabeth had stamped her foot so petulantly as a child. He'd not been too much older than she, having run away to sea at a young age, but stifled in the stiff manners of a young man destined for officer selection but her unfettered passion would always intrigue him. 'She does have her ways and as men it is easier for us to allow her this victory.' He didn't fool himself though, Elizabeth and Turner would soon be wed; whether the man emerged to be amiable or irritating was irrelevant, their accord would fall by the wayside soon enough after the marriage.

A wave of exhaustion engulfed the officer and he wavered visibly, paling. Will felt a stab of concern. 'Would you like to have lunch with me tomorrow? I am rather tired at the moment I'm afraid I've been a poor host. If Miss Swann wishes to come also, I would appreciate it if you informed my housekeeper beforehand.'

Will stood at that, smiling at the other man. 'I'd be glad to come, although perhaps it would be better to come alone; Elizabeth has been ….' He gestured feebly, trying to convey the queer snappish mood his beloved had been in of late.

Norrington gave a nod of tacit understanding, a wry smile tugging at his greyish-pale lips. He walked Turner to the door, gave the order to Mrs Dower for the next day's lunch and then headed to bed before he out and out collapsed.

* A stone is a unit of weight that is fourteen pounds, or roughly six and a half kilos if you use metric measurements.


	4. Chapter 4

'Jack!' A joyful feminine voice greeted him as he stepped onto the stones of the dock. It was a nice change from being slapped or clapped in irons and Captain Jack Sparrow turned to see who it was.

'Hello luv, you're a sight for sore eyes all respectable an' that!'

'Miss Swann is the reason I am not clapping you in irons at this juncture, so keep a civil tongue in your head, Sparrow!' The young lady's tall escort chided him.

'Oh James, it's Jack. I'm used to his ways by now. Even Will doesn't defend my honour that zealously.' Elizabeth gently rebuked her companion, who merely frowned at her. 'Anyway Jack, you're due to stay with myself and my father at his official residence.'

Jack caught the Commodore's expression and obediently fell in beside the two. The man still blatantly held a torch for Lizzy, that much was clear and his views on pirates didn't seem to have changed much either. Jack decided the man needed some male company to ease his mind (and possibly a whore, but he wasn't sure he could be that persuasive and he didn't fancy getting belted by the bigger fellow).

Commodore Norrington leaned back in his chair, tipping his head backwards to rest on the top edge of the chair back. But for a brief break to escort Sparrow Governor Swann's residence he hadn't had any leisure since he'd left his house that morning. Experimentally he tilted his head back downwards and cracked an eye open. There was still a large pile of paperwork sitting on his desk.

The smell of cooking drifting in through his open window reminded James that he hadn't eaten since breakfast that morning. He didn't feel hungry, but his appetite had dropped off dramatically even from the lukewarm hungers he'd had in previous months. If Mrs Dower had to alter his dress uniform again before the wedding to accommodate his further loss of physical condition then she was entirely capable of making his home life unpleasant. He would have to come back after dinner to carry on with the work.

Once home the wig was plonked on its stand for his manservant Thomason to powder and groom. The powder made James sneeze, but he was proud that he'd made something of himself and the wig was a symbol of that. His jacket came off as well and he washed his face and hands before heading into the dining room, where he stopped dead in the doorway. 'Sparrow!'

'That's Captain Sparrow to you, oh esteemed Commodore!' He corrected the naval officer (who looked rather angry for some reason) with an expansive gesture.

'What is it that you want, Sparrow? The Governor's dining room is far grander than mine and I daresay you're more welcome there than here. I suggest you use it.' The man's voice was tight with anger and cracked painfully on the last word.

Jack grinned. 'An' miss the pleasure of yer scintillatin' conversation, Commodore?' He paused and shook his head pityingly, sending a grin at the man. 'You've not even threatened ter clap me in irons, are you sickening for something?'

'Only for you to trouble someone else.' Norrington lied, stepping over to the sideboard to pour himself a measure of brandy, sipping at it before he turned around to get the first painful sip over with before the alcohol numbed his painful throat.

'If I were to heed yer most esteemed advice an' tootle off back to Weatherby's house?' He didn't give his unwilling host time to answer. 'You'd just eat up an' go trotting straight back to yer papers wouldn't you? Y'see women are fey folk an' they're not enamoured when they meet a fellah who seems to like paperwork more'n he likes them.'

'It is fortunate then that I am not engaged in an affair.' Norrington's tone became heavily repressive at that.

Their useless argument was interrupted by the door opening. 'Evenin' Sir. It's yer favourite tonight so get started on this beef broth and I'll make ready yer roast.' The plump, middle-aged housekeeper nearly dropped the soup tureen in shock. 'I didn't know you had a gust, sir! I'll ready a second table setting for you sir.' she dipped her head at Jack, who grinned back like the cat that had got the cream.

'Ta love!'

Norrington wanted to bury his face in his hands at the turn his previously mundane evening had taken. Now Mrs Dower had unwittingly forced the issue he would have to play the host as graciously as he could.

Jack watched the other man's stiff movements as he poured Jack a drink and refilled his own glass. Norrington hadn't been any fun thus far, although he did appreciate the fact that he was still breathing and not in gaol. It had been a gamble as to whether the unpredictable naval officer would be able to contain himself.

The man was sprawled in the chair at the other end of his short dining-table. Swilling fairly good brandy and slouching there as if he belonged there, it made James' blood boil, inasmuch as he had the energy for high emotion left. As it was he managed a wave of vague irritation at the man's impudence. He decided to try some polite conversation. 'So, how are you finding the Governor's hospitality, Sparrow?'

Once the food had been served and the Commodore had gotten a few brandies inside him the evening turned out almost pleasant. They'd talked about safe topics like currents and storms, each pleasantly surprised by the other's knowledge. Jack had always taken Norrington as one of them decorative bridge officers who'd been lucky with his crews and Norrington had never seen much beyond the loquacious drunken popinjay façade Jack perpetrated.

Pleasantly surprised by the quietly enjoyable evening and Mrs Dower's excellent cooking (Norrington clearly didn't appreciate her cooking from the way he'd picked at his meal), Jack decided to invite himself back.

Norrington paused in his dining-room door, once again minus his jacket and wig, then headed over to the sideboard as his slightly hoarse voice took on a conversational note. 'This is reminiscent of the time in my childhood when I snuck some scraps of meat from my luncheon out to a feral little scrap of a kitten that lurked about the front of my father's front door.'

Jack accepted a top-up of his brandy, despite having already helped himself. 'What happened? Everyone knows ships' cats're lucky. Sounds like you were honoured there, mate.'

Norrington frowned slightly in distaste at being called Sparrow's 'mate' but sighed and answered anyway. 'My father noticed me wasting perfectly good food on something he deemed a verminous beast, he was especially cross when he saw me playing with the half-grown shabby little thing. He made me drown it and watched to ensure I obeyed his order.'

Jack flinched slightly at his companion's blunt re-telling of the story, even if the ending wasn't a shock the man's matter-of-fact rendition made it seem harsher. 'I hope yer not retellin' this story to me in the manner of an Aesopian fable, Commodore!'

A grim smile twitched at Norrington's mouth. His expression had nothing to do with humour in it. 'You are hardly a defenceless infant creature, Sparrow. I would have been content to draw the parallel betwixt you and the scruffy stray.'

Jack was thrown off-balance by that, not entirely sure as to whether or not the man was making sly insinuating mockery of him. Fortunately Mrs Dower bustling in saved him from having to make reply.

'Oh you've a guest again sir! Pleasure to have you back, sir. I'll be back shortly with another plate.' The woman's normal cockney accent lessened slightly into her cultivated 'talking to guests' voice.

Anyone who could suddenly throw Jack off-balance as suddenly as that was interesting and suddenly Jack had to reconsider much of their previous discussion, looking for more hidden depths. A few ambiguous statements and Jack was hooked. The insatiably curious pirate was delighted, perhaps this wouldn't be as dull as he'd feared!

Sparrow could actually be quite witty when he wanted to be, James was rapidly coming to realise. Was he so starved for the company of one he might deem a peer that he would even stoop to consorting with a pirate? Criminal though the caddish fellow was he was also quite the engaging conversationalist.

'This is quite a nice Cabernet you've matched to the beef here.' Sparrow commented idly, even waiting to swallow his mouthful before speaking out of deference to the man's tiresome manners.

'Rank does have its privileges after all, even if I am not terribly interested in faffing about coordinating dishes and wines like that. Fortunately Mrs Dower is fairly good at it.'

Both were surprised by the other's displays of knowledge and preference. The cultured pirate was starting to suspect that the Commodore wasn't quite as posh as his accent, he'd have teased the man about it, especially since that sort of nonsense was his main objection to the law-abiding naval life. Then again, a man did what he had to survive, Jack'd done plenty to survive he wouldn't like to talk about. He almost regretted that they'd been placed on opposite sides of fate's board.

At last Jack swaggered to his feet even more unsteadily than was his norm. 'It's been a pleasure, Jamie. I offer me sincerest condolences fer tomorrow an' I 'ope fer your sake as well as theirs that Lizzie an' Will are happy together.'

After Jack left James sat still for a very long time staring at the empty seat opposite.


	5. Chapter 5

The wedding day's dawn broke into the glorious bright day the previous night's sunset had indicated to Norrington's weather eye. He washed and dressed with especial care, pleased at Mrs Dower's clever alterations to his dress uniform. The heavy wool held to the lines of his body, imparting a bulk to his wasted fame that kept him from looking as emaciated to others as he truly seemed to be becoming. Instead he was dashing; a slim, bladelike physique enhanced by the dangerous smart brocade of one of the King's naval officers.

Mrs Dower swept an invisible speck of lint from his shoulder and looked up into his pale, stoic face. 'You'll be beatin' the ladies off with a stick.' She declared, her uncultured voice thick with satisfaction.

James stepped out with a heavy heart, ready to face the day and wishing he were out fighting pirates over the more unnerving prospect of making small-talk with society.

Jack tugged at his collar and rummaged under the curls covering his neck, scratching furiously. The Governor had said his second-best wig was thoroughly deloused, but Jack wasn't convinced. He turned to sit sideways on his allocated pew, one leg turning sideways to rest on the bench and his foot resting in the crook of his other knee, watching the chapel fill up. He chortled wryly to himself when the Commodore turned up, accompanied by one of his fellow officers - Jack thought it was the one called Groves. Norrington looked as if he was entering on the point of a sword, his face set in a determinedly polite expression, but his red-rimmed, dark-smudged eyes and greyish pallor gave lie to the façade.

Norrington didn't last the service. Half-way through the second hymn he bolted for the exit. Jack slid out of his own pew, weaving past the other members of the congregation; the desire to taunt at how the mighty had fallen warred with the simple desire to ensure a man he was rapidly coming to be fond of was alright.

He wasn't alright. Jack watched in fascinated horror as Norrington convulsively folded at the waist, slumping to cough and spit and choke as bright blood and gore-streaked phlegm spilled from him. Jack froze as a thick-set, short figure bustled past the weeping angel statue he was lurking behind.

'Ach Sir! I told ye to take care o' yerself!' he exclaimed in a thick Scottish accent as he adroitly slipped under his superior's arm to support him and rubbed his back in firm, soothing strokes. Eventually Norrington managed to straighten up and the pair of them leant against the chapel wall.

'If I'd known yer condition had deteriorated so quickly I'd have told ye not to come.' The older man said, causing Jack's ears to prick up.

'Sparrow, you are here to watch the wedding, not to bear witness to yet another indignity in my life!' Norrington rasped, causing the Scot to startle. Jack emerged from where he'd been lurking behind the lachrymal angel and stuck his hands in the pockets of his brocaded coat, treating the pair of them to a rare serious look.

'That's Captain Sparrow!' he shot back, but his heart wasn't really in the usual banter. He sighed and his voice softened as he couldn't help but bend a pitying look on the taller man. 'An' that's why yer after regainin' yer old title of The Scourge isn't it? You've no sons, but a man must have his legacy.' Their eyes met and Jack was treated to the rare spectacle of seeing Norrington's true emotions painted vivid in his eyes. The anger, humiliation and scathing pain in those green eyes made him wince and suck in a shocked breath. He turned away, mumbling something about seeing them at the wedding breakfast. He heard the Scot strike up his chatter again in low soothing tones.

Lizzy and young Will looked proud as punch, staring into one another's eyes with the dazed expression of a couple who still couldn't quite believe their luck. The ageing vicar rambled his way through the service as the happy couple stood staring at one another looking away only at his prompts. As Will set the ring on Lizzie's finger they glowed with a joy brighter than the light pouring in through the gaily coloured stained glass lining the chapel. The whole shindig had an exuberant joy to it and they all spilled out into the Governor's gardens where the wedding breakfast was laid out in the bright sunlight.

'Scuse me ladies, I'm just gonna borrow yon Commodore fer a moment.' The two society ladies shrunk aside in scandal as a scruffy ragamuffin cut in between them and grabbed a handful of the Commodore's uniform jacket hauling away Port Royal's most eligible bachelor after him, heading in the direction of the food. They were even more scandalised when Jack made a show of patting the Commodore on the bottom and winking at them over his shoulder. Jack grinned cheekily, safe in the knowledge that Norrington was too polite to gut him on the spot in mixed company,

'What the Devil are you playing at, Sparrow?' Norrington hissed the demand through gritted teeth as the pirate towed him in the direction of a maid carrying a tray of sweet sherry (courtesy of the privateers). He smiled at the maid and accepted a drink, before scowling again at Sparrow.

'Doin' you the favour of not havin' to find all kinds of tactful ways of keeping' them young harridans at bay.' Jack shot a sly sideways glance up at his grumpy companion and smirked. 'Y'see I'm the evil pirate who's swooped in and just dragged a prominent, nay even prestigious naval officer away from the nice young gels he was politely hob-nobbing with and am now holing' him hostage at me pleasure. Savvy?' The grin he punctuated the end of his explanation with was utterly feline. Then he tossed back the drink and grabbed Norrington's sleeve again to drag him off in the direction of the buffet. 'Oooh! Look at them lovely liddle bits o' sweetmeat here!'

Norrington went in the direction of his yanked arm, scowling and wondering what the Hell the half-daft pirate was playing him for. He was about to catch up with Sparrow and demand he start talking sense for a change when it all went to Hell.


	6. Chapter 6

Gunfire rattled loud, punctuated by screams of the townsfolk and the booming retort of cannon-fire. The wedding party panicked.

Jack froze, the smell of cordite thick in the air as the party degenerated into terror and people started panicking and running around like headless chickens. He saw Norrington reach out and grab a uniformed officer, shaking him hard to jolt him out of his panic and yelling orders swallowed up by the noise of the fray. He did it again with another uniformed man and Governor Swann caught his eye and managed to raise his voice over the crowd.

'Ladies and the elderly will be served tea and sweetmeats in the ballroom'

'Men! Attention!' Norrington's rough voice followed hard on its heels, the coarse volume of a battlefield shout. 'Follow my lieutenants and head to the barracks. We fight!'

Norrington shoved his way through the now purposefully moving crowd to Sparrow's side. 'They're going to die, I can only think of one group of pirates dangerous enough to chance a raid such as this..' He admitted frankly. 'You know as well as I there're at least three pirate ships out there and we're on a skeleton crew thanks to this wedding. I've reinforcements - marines - but they're five miles hence away on an exercise but they'll never get the order in time and we've no way to outflank them.'

'We'll ride there. Where're these soldiers of yorn?' Sparrow asked.

Norrington grinned back at him, a mad, feverish intensity shining in his eyes. 'Half a mile from the Black Pearl's mooring.'

Jack couldn't help but laugh. 'Yer learnin' lad, never trust a pirate! Now, where're these stables?' The Commodore led the way through to the stables with an easy familiarity with his surroundings and they galloped the whole distance, ducking down low over the necks of the horses to avoid low-hanging branches and praying that the narrow paths wouldn't have a pothole in them to break the horses' legs.

'What's going on? Commodore?' The group commander's shock only increased when he saw just who had galloped into their camp as if the very hounds of Hell were giving chase.

'Pirate… attack… on the … fort itself!' Norrington managed to gasp out. 'Head on to the ship you were monitoring…. The captain has agreed to join the battle.' He stayed mounted, letting the blowing, sweating gelding trot on, hoping it held up a little longer as he didn't think his legs would.

'Ana-Maria, Gibbs, my treasures! If we take these here lobster backs and join in with a bit o' the fightin' we're getting rid of Gariol an' his crew, stealin' a portion of their shinies and Norrington here won't kill us fer sittin' here with our thumbs up our arses.' Jack spread his be-ringed hands and smiled at them charmingly.

It was the last point rather than he first two that was the most compelling and the crew grudgingly jumped into action, making ready to weigh anchor as soon as the marines arrived.

'Fastest ship on the seven seas!' Sparrow yelled to Norrington as their respective men readied for battle. He flung a madcap chortle into the wind and looked to Norrington as they set sail, praying that they would be on time. Pearl didn't seem to mind having a naval captain on board, sails straining in the wind as she surged forth as if powered by the two men's desperate need to get to Port Royal.

'What's the plan, Jack If you get us killed I'll make damn' sure you regret it.' Ana-Marie growled at him menacingly as she idly examined her Moorish scimitar.

'Disable their boats with cannon fire and then swarm onto the docks and catch the pirates between us and the fort's defending forces.' The answer came from behind her. Norrington and the marines were organising themselves, but the tall man had still found time to discuss their plan of action with Jack. Ana-Marie narrowed her eyes at him menacingly, but stalked off to her own business.

Jack was nearly vibrating with tension when they rounded the headland into the harbour. Gariol was scum and there were few who'd mourn the lying, raping, torturing, murdering villain. Jack might have been mighty partial to the shinies, a dishonest, thieving, rum-swilling pirate, but he'd never taken a lass (or lad, come to think) against their will or killed a man without good reason. At his mark cannon-fire roared.

Despair welled up in Groves' heart at the sound of fresh cannon-fire. Those wretched pirates couldn't have reinforcements, could they? A rough hand settled on his shoulder momentarily. 'Steady, lad.' Thomason yelled over the sound of conflict, dispatching another pirate with his master's Turner blade with surety and took another step toward the docks. The young officer spared a moment of admiration for the aged man-servant, whose wooden leg didn't seem to hinder him in the slightest, then he too pressed on.

Jack watched the marines swarm ashore, led by the Commodore. It was the most lively he'd seen the man all day. He'd pay the price later though, Jack knew from his observation of the white plague's effects before, but for now the tall man commanded his diminished force, leading their charge like a primal god of war.

Elizabeth couldn't stop herself from touching the pistol concealed in the folds of her wedding dress, the cool steel offering little comfort as the sounds of battle reached even into the ball-room. She turned at a disturbance behind her to greet her father, who looked ill at ease with a sword at his belt and a pistol ready in his right hand. He took her hand with his free one and leant in close to kiss her on the cheek. His hand was clammy in hers and Elizabeth felt his hand tremble in hers. He smiled weakly, then fixed her with a deathly serious look. 'Be gay and continue with the festivities for me please, my love. If… if the worst happens then may God be your guide.'

As he turned away to command the men of his staff (a few stable lads and footmen and Burrows the elderly butler) Elizabeth's resolve firmed and she took up her father's mantle as the host. She turned back to the party with a smile and gently urged Lady Featherstoneshaugh to delight them with her renowned skill at the harpsichord. The maids circulated with more drinks, pistols stuffed awkwardly into their apron pockets. The music played on in absurd contrast to the sounds of battle.

Gillette frowned, the timbre of the sound of battle had changed; a fresh roar had risen up, but the pirates did not seem to be overwhelming them! Mr Turner punched the pirate threatening to overwhlem Gillette with his greater strength and the young Lieutenant nodded his gratitude and continued fighting grimly on. The pirates were losing their fervour and it was Mr Turner who realised why. 'It's the Commodore!'

Gillette squinted down the street and saw it too, a cluster of marines in their bright red uniform tunics led by a man in naval blue with his commander's distinctive posture. He roared with martial fervour, wild hope and passionate loyalty, throwing himself back into the fray until the invaders began dropping their weapons and begging for mercy.


	7. Chapter 7

James was sat on an upturned barrel supervising the mop-up operation as Gillette herded another batch of prisoners past and he recognised his old colleague Joshamee Gibbs amongst them. With precious little regards for his enervated limbs or agonising throat and chest he leapt to his feet and yelled, 'Halt!'

Gillette did so and turned towards him as the two marines continued to guard the prisoners. 'Release that man! He crewed the vessel that brought the reinforcements.' Norrington snapped, with a gesture towards Gibbs.

'But Sir, look at him he's a….'

'Silence!' Norrington bought the full force of his commanding personality to bear.

Jack chose that moment to appear on the scene, whistling nonchalantly as he wove his way through the chaotic streets, pockets stuffed with the spoils of Gariol's crew. Norrington beckoned him over. 'Captain, I would be most obliged if you would take a tour of the gaol to ensure that no further members of your crew have been captured by mine in a fit of overzealousness.' He requested formally and the shock of being addressed correctly by the other for once temporarily silenced Jack.

Gillette's eyes nearly popped out of his head when he realised who the comparatively clean and well-turned out Jack was. 'But Sir… the… he!'

'He is a guest of Governor Swann and did his duty as a servant of the crown in aiding the Royal Navy in defence of this port. I will not allow him or his crew to be harassed!' Norrington replied quelling any further objection.

Gillette quailed under his superior officer's icy-calm rebuke. All of a sudden he felt like a child being scolded by his great father's ire. He saluted hurriedly. 'Yes Sir!'

Commodore Norrington acknowledged the salute and strode off towards Governor Swann's residence. Jack paused, 'Gibbs, do as the man says and get everyone back to the Pearl.' He vanished again before Gibbs could object or question his actions.

'I thought I'd find you like this, lad.' Jack mused aloud as he supported Norrington. He'd found the man half-collapsed against a wall in an empty side-street, tears and blood pouring from him as his body was wracked with another episode of malaise.

Gradually Norrington straightened, inch by painful inch, resuming his starched posture, pride stiffening his back. 'If you are quite finished making a fuss, Sparrow, I have to report to the Governor and oversee the restoration of order.'

Damn' the man to blue blazes! Jack cursed angrily under his breath and trotted after the man, trying to keep up to his longer strides. He had to wonder why the gods had lumbered him with a big daft navy-boy with none of the sense th' gods gave a proper pirate! Still, walking along in silence wasn't his style so he fished some of his new oddments out of his pockets and started to tell the made-up-on-the-spot tales of their acquisition. He'd just got to the bit when the comely mermaid had dragged him 'neath the stormy waves to her amorous nest when Governor Swann bustled out of his house, a huge smile lighting his face.

'James! You and Captain Sparrow have saved the day!' Until a few nights' previous Jack hadn't understood the kindly older man's affection for Norrington, the cold fish. Now he'd seen a bit more and knowing that the Governor did not have many true friends among the sycophants and schemes around it made a bit more sense.

'Oh James! You're safe!' Norrington just had time to half-turn and brace himself before Mrs Turner embraced him fiercely like a brother.

Elizabeth hugged dear James, almost weeping in gratitude that her dear friend had been spared as well as her husband, who had sped back to the mansion as soon as the pirates had surrendered. She frowned as the flat of her hand pressed against his back encountered the hard, sharp bones of his spine and ribs. Jamie needed to find himself a wife to take good care of him! She released him and then turned to Jack and clasped his hands fervently in her own, despite the fact that his hands were somehow once again filthy.

'No heartfelt embrace fer yer old mucker Jack?' the pirate mocked-pouted at Lizzie's blatant favouritism.

Elizabeth grinned, dagger-sharp. 'Pirate.' She reminded him and he had to laugh at that.

Weatherby Swann smiled at the joyful reunion and stepped forward once the three youngsters had settled. 'Would you consider taking the Royal Marque? Your breathtaking display of courage and cooperation with the Commodore are doubtless proof of what a marvellous privateer you would make.' As he spoke Swann's new son-in-law arrived and made a beeline for his wife.

Jack paused, shocked by the suggestion. One grubby mitt rose to tangle his fingers in his matted beard as he tried to think. It was dangerous close to respectable, to Jack's thinking too close to the Navy and their orders and constant oppression of a man's free spirit. He caught Norrington's eye.

'Just think on it before you make a decision.' The other seaman suggested and Jack realised that James truly would regret having to kill him after their experiences together, but would feel obligated to do his duty. His eyes widened at that realisation and he looked up at the man in consideration. He gave a determined nod to him.


	8. Epilogue

Fever crackled along Commodore Norrington's rangy frame as he strode towards the docks, bright-eyed and awfully pallid, but for the bright smudge of red lighting his cheeks. Thin as death and in fine, fey spirits he made his way along the docks with purpose. Despite the constant spiteful pain in his chest and the difficulty he had in eating he was in good spirits, dressed simply in his day to day uniform.

The Black Pearl was docked close to the Dauntless and it buzzed with activity as Jack's crew re-supplied under the watchful eye of the female mate, Ana-Marie. Norrington nodded a greeting to her.

'Captain's in 'is cabin. Gibbs, show the man t'th' Captain.' She informed the Commodore, then barked the order at Norrington's old man.

'I'm surprised you managed to shake off her shadow, James.' Sparrow commented mildly as he poured the rum out. It seemed that as of the past few months the Commodore was never seen out and about without the watchful shadows of Groves or Gillette accompanying him.

'Mm, well even their admirable loyalty is tried sorely by the prospect of shore leave. Les filles de joies are more than I can compete with, thank goodness.' He accepted the rum with polite thanks and drank deep, the liquor stinging, then numbing his raw throat.

Jack laughed, once upon a time his pet Commodore would have just ordered the two men to stop mothering him. Jack must be having a good influence if James was using the bribe of a tumble with a good whore to distract them instead. After some desultory chat Jack pulled out his charts and they got to planning.

'We've got to make this one count, Sparrow.' Norrington fixed his friend and comrade in arms with a serious look, abandoning his usual façade of strength to allow Jack to see how much pain and weakness now dogged at him.

Jack looked at his friend, letting his usual drunken-seeming cheer drop. He'd suggested James invoked the curse of eternal life, but the man had refused and Jack supposed spending the rest of eternity in the agony James was suffering now wasn't very appealing. While he wasn't whingeing at all the deterioration in his health was so obvious Lizzie, Will and Weatherby had all had quiet words with Jack, asking him to look after the Commodore. Jack wasn't going to tell him that though - he was prickly enough about his wretched dignity as it was.

'Aye lad, we will.' He smiled a rakish grin full of fire and madness. 'We'll give 'em piss an' vinegar. There won't be a man on the seas who don't whisper the name o' the Scourge come next moon.'

Jack received a heavy-lidded, satisfied smile. 'Aye, yus kin.*' Cheerful spite leaked from every pore as he dropped the mincing, proper tones Jack had truly known weren't Jim-lad's.

As they stood to make ready for departure James took Jack's hand and shook it gravely, his grip still firm, stubbornly ignoring the creep of death stealing along his limbs. 'It has been a pleasure, Captain.'

'Ye must be sickenin' lad, you never call me Captain!' Jack returned the handshake with a clap on the back. 'Jus' don't drink all the rum before I get there, lad!'

James chuckled as he headed back to his own ship to prepare for the morning. His tread was light on the steps and Jack managed a pained smile as he poured out the last of the rum. He'd forgotten the occupation hazards of befriending mortals.

The next morning the two captains set sail. Only one returned, and that day a legend was born of a man in naval blue who rides the winds of death and smites the wicked of the seas. Jack still hears of sightings of that fierce spirit and he raised a glass to the seas.

FIN

* Yus kin is a Derbyshire dialect expression that roughly translates to 'you understand', literally claiming kinship. Mainly because the irony of making Norrington a Derbyshire lad cracks me up.


End file.
